


Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit

by audriel



Series: Tabula Rasa [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Howard Stark as Eduardo Ferro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audriel/pseuds/audriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has awoken from the cold, and now he is making his way in the world without his memories.</p><p> </p><p>This is the new life of Eduardo Ferro, formerly Howard Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nihil

It was precisely eight months three weeks and six days after he was released from SHIELD’s care into society that he found himself getting restless and completely giving up the pretense of living normal, civilian life. He had managed to earn himself a degree or two, finishing two-year courses in a year. He had managed to publish few journals. He took out more patent on his designs than he cared. All of this was done under the name Eduardo Ferro, the identity SHIELD had kindly made for him (note the sarcasm please)

He was strongly advised to change his appearance to separate him with Howard Stark, the several years deceased Stark Industries founder and weapons manufacturing pioneer, despite his appearance was somewhat younger and healthier looking than Stark from the time of his death (supposedly that was what being dead and frozen did to you, he bet that many people would be _dying_ to achieve that, yes, pun intended). He finally relented and chose to dye his hair into lighter brown, shave his face clean to remove his signature facial hair and wear thin-rimmed glasses.

Often times the simplest change was the best way to deter others from recognizing familiar faces (though not as simple as wearing glasses and taking it off, seriously, Superman set up a bad precedent, he wished it was that easy, dyeing hair was such a pain). He didn’t fail to notice how his usual doctor-nurse-psychiatrist team addressed him rather carefully after he made the changes, even the unflappable SHIELD director made a double take at his appearance.

Director Fury had been quite an enigma, a piece of puzzle that didn’t quite fit. For someone who was in charge of a covert intelligence agency, the man was rather upfront when it came to sharing the contents in his file (redacted as it was, he had no illusion, he imagined his actual file was much longer, probably with many notes and analysis) and didn’t delegate the task of returning him to society to any of his subordinate and instead took care of everything himself. It was either that Howard Stark, or the knowledge that he was alive was that dangerous or Howard Stark mattered much to him, but for what reason, he couldn’t fathom. He didn’t know the director well enough to make a guess.

From what he could glean (he was working on his hacking skills), the life of Eduardo Ferro closely resembled the life of Howard Stark, or as close as it should be possible. His birth year was moved up by few decades. A wife and a son. Wife died in an accident, son missing, instead of estranged. An engineer, an inventor, but instead of weapons, he invented industrial appliances.He had a feeling that his psychiatrist had a hand in this, probably hoping that familiarity would help to jog his memories, and should they come back, he would have no difficulty in incorporating them with his current identity, which was rather presumptuous of them, while he wasn’t even certain whether he wanted them back at all.

He didn’t quite know what to make of Howard Stark. The file provided nothing but bare facts, nothing about the man’s character, of his motivations behind everything he did. From all of the information he gathered on his own (oh the wonders of hacking, the world practically opened up beneath his fingers), Howard Stark was charismatic man, there was no denying that. He carried himself with calm confidence behind his pleasant demeanor for public. He was smooth and suave whenever he was in functions or business meetings. He was the very epitome of a successful businessman. However, he could easily drop that public persona when the need arose, his very presence was imposing, his expression turned cold and unreadable.

This happened more often in the last years of his life somehow, it was as though that he had felt the need to keep others in the distance, as though he had lost trust and confidence in others. In the very year of his death, Howard Stark had completely alienated himself, even from his own family, his wife, Maria and his son, Tony. He wondered whether it was intentional on Howard’s part. Through the years, the appearance of Stark family together was becoming rarer and rarer that there were rumors of a divorce and some reacted with surprise that Maria was with Howard at the time of the accident.

Meanwhile, the car accident itself and the circumstances around it were rather suspicious, but there was no sign of foul play (confirmed from the police reports he managed to lay his hands on, along with SHIELD’s reports on the crash). The SHIELD analyst seemed skeptical whether anyone could fool the Howard Stark, especially considering his paranoia.

Of all things he was certain of Howard Stark was that he was very paranoid. He could never turn off his instinctive reaction to scan his surroundings for suspicious people and activities, to check the room and have escape route before he entered, to read into people’s actions as innocuous as they were, but most surprising was how his reaction was leaning towards fight than flight.

This was most perplexing of the mystery that was Howard Stark, because nothing in his file suggested any combat training, formal or informal. The SI founder was also a workaholic, he spent insane amount of time in his work, whether in SI or SHIELD, making him wonder when the man found time to train himself (not to mention his annual disappearance to the Arctic, this was another thing that confused him). After he went through extensive physical rehabilitation, regaining full use of his body, he found that he had good reflexes, such as beyond-average reflexes. If it was only having a mind that couldn’t stop thinking and analyzing, he could release the tension through reading journals, doing experiments and tinkering in his workshop, but with these reflexes, what was to say that he wouldn’t impetuously get into fights just because one stupid fool said the wrong thing at the wrong time?

Right now, even as he was elbow deep into his latest invention, he could feel the low thrum in his bones and the tension in his muscles. The only reason why he wasn’t already was only because Howard Stark, being a public figure he was, was already used to suppressing them. It seemed he was not an alcoholic by choice, but by necessity. It was the better option compared to drugs. He suspected though, it was not without any side effects, and for that reason, he refused to drink, knowing that he would easily pick up the habit along its downsides. However, that left him with no other viable options in dealing with his pent up energy, unless…

Well, he was getting bored, he had no further obligations to fulfill and he was due for a visit anyway.

That was what he said when he made an unexpected appearance in SHIELD’s secret headquarters then was brought to the Director himself. Fury was not amused, not that he expected the other man to be, his lone eye boring through him as they were left alone in his office. After all, no one should know the exact location of their base of operations and yet he was, waltzing into the headquarters and asked for the director as though it was any other office building.

“How do you find our location?”

“I noticed some things during my stay, made some analysis, narrowed down the possible locations and made some guess.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not bothering to go into details as he was slouching comfortably on the hard chair that was obviously not meant to be seated in a long time.

“Things?” Fury put his hand in front of him while leaning forward and glaring at him, to no effect, he merely looked at the director with a bored expression.

“Soil and water sample, time and transport used to transfer me from the headquarters, among them.”

“How do you get access into the headquarters?”

“Howard Stark has access.” That response effectively silenced Fury. Using this opportunity, he mirrored the other man’s stance, folding his hands before him and leaning forward that they were but inches apart.

“You know why I am here, Director. I want to work for SHIELD.” He stated bluntly, fearlessly returning the dark man’s gaze.

“Do you know what you are asking?”

“I do, Director,” he calmly responded. “I have Howard Stark’s access, which means I know _exactly_ what kind of organization SHIELD is.” At this, Fury leaned back on his leather seat; his face was thoughtful for once.

“It’s not like I’m asking to be a field agent. I’m fine being one of your scientists in R&D without the same clearance that Howard had.” He said nonchalantly, not wanting to give away how much he wanted this, but of course, being a master spy, Fury didn’t fail to notice this.

“What do you want in return?”

He was half-tempted to answer that he wanted nothing, but it was too obvious of a lie. Everyone always wanted something in return, even well-intentioned ones; it was a basic fact of life. He didn’t want to give away too much; especially he hadn’t had much to give in the first place. He wasn’t one to trust easily and this man had done nothing to earn his trust… yet. Fury had tried though; he was a bit surprised when he came to that realization.

Fury didn’t keep him locked up or under observation after he regained his full health. The man didn’t lie of his true identity and gave him what he wanted before he could ask for them. The Director kept him in loose watch (oh he noticed their routine check, he had noticed them in three days since he was released from SHIELD and made some retaliations on his own, he couldn’t forget the look in the agent’s face when he found out that he was tricked into _It’s A Small World_ ride and would like to see the look of whoever in charge of checking his inbox when they found out their computer will keep running Pink Panther theme, yeah, he was old school, sue him), but otherwise, remained in a distance. His identity as Eduard Ferro was another form of freedom he gave him. He also had a feeling that Fury didn’t let anyone know that Howard Stark was alive. The man was too large, too important to be ignored, especially if he was involved in the founding of the very organization Fury led. He also doubted that Fury didn’t have someone to answer to, who wouldn't be pleased for hiding the fact that one of the organization’s founders had returned to life.

“…Howard Stark,” he started, “What kind of man he was?”

“…Why would it matter?” He could see the care of which Fury spoke the words, as though he was navigating between landmines.

“Do you know I could tell how many weapons you have on your person and their kind from their weight? Do you know I could tell your preference for coffee and tea from your habits? Do you know I could tell where all the cameras in this room are positioned?” He said all of this tonelessly, his eyes never leaving the other’s face, remained unchanged even after the revelation.

“I would expect Howard Stark to understand a thing or two about machines and computers, weapons are a given, considering what he did for a living, but never I expected him to know about turning the most innocuous things into weapons and using them. Strange that I have no memories of the life I’ve lived, but that I know things just like I’ve known them for all my life.

“Do you really think that I am meant for civilian life, with or without memories?”

There was a long, heavy silence as both men merely stared at each other. Surprisingly, it was broken by Fury himself.

“No.”

He would be lying if he wasn’t surprised by the somewhat honest admission from the enigmatic man.

“You’re certain that this is what you want?”

He had wondered before what made the director went such lengths for him, among them ran the lines that Howard Stark, or the knowledge that he was alive was that dangerous or Howard Stark mattered much to the man personally. He was leaning more and more to the latter, oddly enough, for someone who seemed to care little of others.

“Am I that much of a hassle?” Instead of blurting the question he had in mind, he settled into joking manner. The knowing look in Fury’s eyes was painfully familiar, but he could never pin it down, however much he liked to.

“You’ll be treated like other new recruits. You will have to take tests and can officially become a part of SHIELD if you passed. ”

“If? So little faith.” Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “You won’t rig the test just to make me fail, will you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Despite the toneless voice, he could see a ghost of smirk on playing at the edges of his mouth. It was as though the man was teasing him, in retaliation of the mess he was getting the other into. It also made the director seemed much more human.

“Here’s the address. Be there tomorrow at 7 sharp.” Fury slid a card on the smooth mahogany table towards him, which he caught reflexively.  He wasn’t surprised that the recruitment process wasn’t in the headquarters itself. He would bet that the place would appear like any other office building and in itself, it was a test for the recruits. He simply had the advantage having been already in the headquarters.

Having gained what he wanted, he didn’t bother to stay any longer. He stood up from the uncomfortable chair, tempted to stretch his poor limbs, but he simply turned around and walked towards the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out.” He waved back with the card in his front and middle fingers.

“Make sure you do.” Without looking, he knew Fury was giving his best threatening glare. Before he reached the door, he stopped, wanting to know one thing before he left. He turned slightly, enough to have a good look on the spy sitting at his desk.

“He was your friend, wasn’t he?”

The flicker of surprise, the briefest look of vulnerability that crossed Fury’s features was enough of an answer to him as he once again turned his back on Howard Stark’s old friend. He was starting to get a read on the master spy, and he could be certain that he meant no harm to his person. If anything, it seemed the man tried to protect him. He would not be as naive and foolish as to give his complete trust to him, but he knew that he could count on the SHIELD director to give what he needed, even though he had to dig beneath the lies and deceit.

He took another look on the simple card, although he had memorized the address before slipping it back into his pocket. He couldn’t help the smirk that was tugging his lips at the thought what was awaiting him, and he knew that he was making the right choice.

Now, he only had to make sure that he wouldn't make it easy for them to get rid of him and passed the damn test.

Eduardo Ferro whistled a tune to himself as he slipped soundlessly among the crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferro settles into life as a SHIELD scientist and engineer.

It hadn’t taken him long to integrate himself into SHIELD after passing the tests, ridiculously easy as it was (it seemed that Fury didn’t try to rig his test. Too bad, he was actually looking forward what the master spy would come up with). Once he was done with the paperwork, he was assigned an ID card, a set of uniform, a set of suit, a set of training clothes, two lab coats and a quarter of his own in base (which was good, because he was prepared to take some drastic measures if he had to share with others). As a new recruit, he was required to follow the orientation program, which included a bunch of courses that he breezed by. He was careful not to attract much attention on himself, which meant that he made sure he showed no higher level of aptitude that was expected from a civilian scientist. He kept his overall scores average, though he didn’t hold back when it came to science and engineering-related stuff, if anything he dug in eagerly.

SHIELD was the most technologically-advanced organization he had seen, especially for a covert intelligence agency. He had caught a glimpse of it during his confinement as he had no other thing to do with how little he was able to do with his recovering body. He would have tinkered with all the machines he encountered but he hadn’t had the time or place, let alone to sneak in some tools. Now he had the access to all of them, including those who were but a mere blueprint, once he became a full-fledged agent without resorting to hacking (not that stopped him from polishing his hacking skill, SHIELD’s security was one of the finest after all).

The Research and Development Department itself was a pleasant surprise, especially with the notable freedom SHIELD granted to the department. The freedom to its scientists and engineers extended to the lack of structure within the department, there was no obvious division between the staff, and there were only projects and teams, when the project required more than one person. The R&D staff was of equal standing with others from intelligence or operations and didn’t answer directly to the chain of command unless in certain circumstances.

Operations and intelligence could put forward any request for projects but R&D could also turn down the projects. It was a testament to the effective orientation for SHIELD recruits that R&D staff didn’t use that privilege often, and when they did, it was for good reason, though there was not to say there wasn’t time where the staff didn’t butt heads with the operations and intelligence (which was quite a show, he must admit. These were no meek scientists in SHIELD; they earned their rights to be here as much as the other person). SHIELD itself was flexible in what kind of projects they could pursue, but they were strict in biological experimentation and leaning more towards countering biological threat instead of biological enhancements or weapons. It was stated very clearly in the rules and regulations of SHIELD and R&D that he alone was hard-pressed to find any loophole. His familiarity with Howard Stark made him able to see his imprints in them, especially at the part regarding weapons of mass destruction.

R&D staff could take more than one projects in one time, and could be part of different teams. Blueprints of personal projects could be shared on the server for others to comment on, or sometimes for others to pick up as the previous owner either gave up or moved on to another project, but at times he could see that they could also add modifications or improvements on existing designs that were already made. All staff was required to state their specialization twice, first at the time of recruitment to SHIELD, second at the time of joining the R&D, in order to help others, from fellow scientist to fellow SHIELD agents to look them up for projects. He stated in his form that he was fair game in designing in everything from small gadgets to large vehicle, with the only exception on weapons. He only made himself available in designing custom-made, one-of-a-kind weapons. He found out early on that he had an aversion to making them, though he had no issue in handling or even using them. He suspected because he couldn’t choose who could use the weapons he made. SHIELD as an organization he felt he could trust, but the SHIELD agents were of different matter, and he wasn’t willing to make weapons for them. He was not alone in this stance; there were even those who refused completely to make weapons and they respected that (medical requests were the ones they rarely, if ever, turned down).

Never had he felt regret since he made the decision to join SHIELD, in the secrecy he found freedom, among these people he found similar minds. For the first time since he was awake in that cold chamber, he found himself breathing a little easier and the itch beneath his skin receding. It was the closest to feeling that he belonged, because he couldn’t help the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he wasn’t meant to be here, that he wasn’t meant to be _alive_ (really, what are the chances? And he really, really tried not to think of the other person who also died in the crash). Whenever he felt the slightest bit unsettled he now had better options instead of merely tinkering in the lab, he could go to the range in the dead of the night or to the gym and find a willing sparring partner which could keep up with him (even he was careful not to go all out, it was already odd enough that there was a scientist who was in a good shape as field agents).

Before long he found himself with people whom he could call more than acquaintances or coworkers (he didn’t dare to call them friends). Luke Charles and Cheyenne started as the two people he had the chance to work most often with their mutual interests in developing large and complex transportation mode, one of which was the Quinjet. The three of them was of the practical sort, as it was made obvious by their choice of projects. They knew that SHIELD needed more than weapons (he couldn’t understand people’s obsession with harnessing nuclear power, he downright _despised_ it) or gadgets to the likes of Bond movies (most of them were pretty ridiculous, but the ideas were ingenious) and they were among the few who were willing to tackle the difficult projects. Others came and went, but they remained and somewhere along the way tentative friendship (if they could be called one) came to be between them.

What it was first a rare occurrence when they all gathered together after hours, became a frequent occurrence that soon after the whole department was used to seeing them together and was not surprised that the three of them often ended up in the same projects or the other two offering their assistance to their personal projects. They were all private person, but he didn’t doubt that each had their own share of burden that they easily recognized in each other. Sometimes Charles, Cheyenne and him would just sit there around the table or on the couch, nursing their drinks without saying anything at all. Their particular meeting place was a room near his lab, which was in quite a distance from the other two’s rooms, but because its position in base granted near complete privacy, Luke and Cheyenne much preferred it. When he noticed this, he made sure that he was around for some company should they need it and they seemed strangely appreciative about it, making him as though he was the normal one of the bunch (how weird was that the amnesiac guy ended up the most stable one? It was not really like he offered anything but company; he was the worst conversationalist of the three).

He was surprised though, when he found others outside R&D department, which were Phil Coulson and Jimmy Woo. He was introduced to Coulson through Fury. Fury didn’t tell him much when he introduced both of them, but he had a sense that Coulson was his right hand man as he was the only person who knew his current predicament (which was supposedly long dead and much older). Coulson was… an interesting guy (which was an understatement); he had such a bland appearance that it was easy to underestimate him when the man was anything but. It took a man wearing a mask to recognize another; Coulson was an excellent one, especially with his perfect choice of mask. He didn’t hide his amusement as Coulson assumed the typical behavior of a suit as though he was another paper pusher as he explained all the rules and regulations he needed to pay attention to now he returned to life and the complications that might rise whether he regained his memories or not.

It didn’t take him long to decide to poke and prod the agent, wanting to know how well the younger man’s mask was. His conclusion was that it held very well and more often than not it aided him in his duties. At the same time, he gained enough insight of the man to tell what was actually going on underneath that mask. As annoyed as Coulson was with him, he respected him for being able to see through his mask in the first glance and sometimes he thought he saw an edge of awe and wonder when the agent was in his presence (he only saw that reaction once, when he caught a glimpse of Coulson with his Captain America trading card collection, it was kind of adorable actually, if you ignored the fact that the man could kill you in the most inconspicuous ways).

He already knew Woo from their random encounters in the range, not that they knew each other by name. With both Coulson and Woo as SHIELD senior agents and with him in R&D, there was little chance of them crossing path other than in the communal spaces in the base (the canteen, the gym and the range). It was only due to Coulson that they were properly introduced and Woo had been surprised to know that he was one of the geeks. At that he merely blinked, while Coulson tried to make Woo apologize. Woo didn’t apologize, but clarified that he was a good shot, which was not expected from guys from R&D. He took the compliment as it was, not offended the slightest bit (and he thought he saw Coulson looked rather relieved) as he saw that the man was interested to make him a field agent, proven by his attempts to woo him to the other side (yeah, the man did say that, and he couldn’t help but like the man, especially the subtlety of his attempts, no wonder why the man was considered the best).

He had no interest in operations, so all the attempts only made him shake his head and went on his merry way, to Woo’s disappointment and Coulson’s amusement. Regardless, it later became more a habit for Woo and part of their routine whenever they encountered each other. Because of his contact with the two, he could consider himself the more informed one of the R&D staff of the goings on of SHIELD without resorting to hacking. Through them he knew the interesting tales of SHIELD, some of which were facts while the others had from bits of truth to none and also the interesting people of SHIELD. He had most fun of the stories of Fury, because somehow he knew all of them were false and nothing close to the truth, and yet even these _senior_ , _experienced_ agents thought there was some truth in it. Their favorite topic was their assets, or specifically Barton and Romanoff for Coulson.

Woo and him became used to the sudden and unexpected rants of Agent Phil Coulson, the fortunate/unfortunate handler of Agents Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, which became one of his highlights of his day when it happened (not that he told Coulson _that_ ). He himself had heard enough rumors of the two without actively seeking it out. He had heard enough to know that both of them were among SHIELD’s finest operatives, on their own they were dangerous, together they were unstoppable. However, he was not that naive that their skills were not without cost and one of them were their lack of care of their own well-being, which was the usual cause of Coulson’s rants. The man cared for all of his agents, but these two were special to him, even he who only knew Coulson for nearly a year could tell. Through Coulson alone, he could see the good in the two.

That was why when he saw the request for an upgrade for Widow’s Bite, he took it up and made a weapon by his own volition for what it felt like a long time. It took him a while to make all the proper adjustments. There was an art in making personalized weapons. It took him looking through all of the video recordings of the Black Widow in motion (and not all of them he actually had access for) to get the right design for the assassin. When it was done, he was very satisfied with the result, and was not surprised to the complimentary feedback he received, despite the bland and formal choice of words.

Somehow Coulson found out that he was the one who made the upgrade and made a visit to R&D, earning him odd looks for actually having an amiable relationship with one of suits. Charles and Cheyenne did nothing but return to their projects when Coulson made his appearance. In first glance, Coulson looked like his usual professional self, but then he saw the faint rings under his eyes and the strand of hair out of place and the slight crook of his tie and he knew that something was wrong. He knocked the table twice, his and Charles and Cheyenne’s code that he would be gone for a while.

Wordlessly he led the distraught man (it took him a while to wrap up his mind around that, a _distraught_ Coulson) where they could have some privacy. They ended up on the small sitting room with a various kind of chairs from beanbag to wooden chair (really, SHIELD could compete with Google any day). He took one of the normal looking ones and settled in for a wait. A wait it was, Coulson seated himself at the opposite side but his mind seemed elsewhere that he remained sitting stiffly against the plush chair. He was bad at waiting without anything to do, so he busied himself with his latest invention that he carried along in his pocket.

After few minutes, Coulson fumbled with something in the pocket of his jacket, bringing out folded papers which he handed with such care that he couldn’t help to mirror his gesture as he received them. He carefully unfolded the papers and his eyebrow jumped in surprise when he saw what was drawn upon it. He looked over the papers thoughtfully, mulling on the unmistakable designs of a retractable bow, mechanized quiver, and trick arrows. He didn’t need to guess whose hand drew the designs, but SHIELD’s very own archer (he also happened to see similar styled drawings whenever a complaint regarding the man’s weapons came into R&D).

“Can you do it?”

“Does Agent Barton know you have his designs for his weapon?”

“He won’t know until Medical releases him.” Now he had an idea what happened.

“How is he?” At the question, the man seemed to deflate as though he lost all the strength he needed to keep up his mask. Coulson rubbed his face tiredly, most likely after having waited for news for his agent all the night.

“He’ll make full recovery in good time; so long he didn’t leave his bed.”  He hummed noncommittally as he took another glance on the designs, adding some notes in his mind.

“He broke his bow and lost all the arrows in the mission.”

“At least he didn’t lose his life.”

“You should tell that to him.”

“…A reward or a gift?” Coulson grinned wryly at the question.

“You really should consider yourself for operations or intelligence. Most would guess it would be for a bribe.”

“That occurs to me.”

“Next month would mark Clint’s tenth year in SHIELD.”

“And your partnership.” Coulson dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“A month then?”

“You have three months; I’d rather have him completely healed before he could run off with your bow and arrows.”

“Duly noted.” He smirked at the exasperation and fondness in the usually calm tone Coulson adopted.

He managed to do so in two months, not only making sure that they were everything that Barton wanted from his sketches, but also more, including all the quirks that the archer didn’t realize he had (he noticed that the agent had unique center of balance that would affect the weight distribution of the bow to provide easier use) and all the upgrades he could think of (replaceable arrowheads, and from there, he came up with rotating quiver, adding compartment at the bottom while ensuring more arrows could fit into the quiver). He went as far as trying the bow himself at the range (and damn, that pulled a lot of muscles, he was sore for many days, though he was quite proud of his aim).

With a sense of accomplishment reserved for difficult (non-weapon) inventions, he presented the newly-improved bow and arrows to Coulson who didn’t hide his appreciation at the result. Coulson had asked for him to demonstrate the features to Barton, but he politely declined and demonstrated the additional features for Coulson instead, as this was his gift for his agent (he was also quite certain that Barton would be quick to learn with or without instructions). Though he couldn’t resist not getting a glimpse when the man tried the new bow and arrows in the range (and was damn proud when he saw that the archer did little adjustment on them and impressed with the man of the ease and speed he learned to use the weapon). Afterwards, he didn’t take any more special requests for custom-made weapons, focusing more on comparably more interesting and challenging projects with Charles and Cheyenne, Coulson and his assets were in the back of his mind for months until he had an unpleasant surprise when he got into his lab and found unwelcome presence that made him instinctively throw the closest object in his reach (he was also half-awake, having been working non-stop on their latest project on cloaking device, throwing stuff was the best option he could come up with).

“Nice aim for a scientist,” the intruder stepped forward, the prototype thrown at him (he couldn’t hide his relief, as misplaced as it was for being his first reaction towards an intruder, it would be a pain to rebuild the prototype) was in his hand. The intruder was a lean blond man in SHIELD standard uniform on base. His stance was relaxed, but he knew better. He only realized the man’s presence in the lab nearly a moment too late if he was really an intruder, so muted his presence was. Not to mention, his lab had the best security among the other places in base, even better than Fury’s office. (His lab was his safe haven, his fortress; he would not take any intrusion into his space lightly)

“I generally aim better than most scientists.” He continued nonchalantly, not tipping away his wariness of the man’s uninvited presence. He was definitely a field agent, an operative, mostly likely specializing in stealth and assassination. Violent reaction would not end well for either of them, well, as confident as he was in his abilities, he wasn’t sure he could take on SHIELD’s best and it was not a mere scientist with low level clearance exactly did. (Though not to say he was not tempted)

“Can you put down the prototype?” He walked towards his worktable, keeping his distance with the agent. When he saw the man at the edge of his vision did what he was told, he slightly relaxed. He looked rather solemn, and most likely wary, as he was in unfamiliar territory and enclosed space, which, if he thought again, made him in slight advantage. He waved away the thought; he was thinking too much like a field agent and instead focused on his guest. He had seated himself at his usual chair and saw the man standing across the table.

“So what can I do for you that you cannot bother to wait and be given entry like normal people?” He finally addressed the quiet man. In response the man brought forward a dark cylinder slightly longer than his closed fist around it, and it was only due to his familiarity with his own design that he didn’t react when it extended to a full-fledged compound bow.

“Ah, you’d be Agent Barton, then. What’s wrong with the bow?”

“The balance is off.” Barton placed the bow on the table between them. He found himself narrow his eyes in confusion, adjusting his non-prescriptive glasses to look at the bow better, because he was quite certain that he had made all the proper adjustments for Barton when he made it and it had been months ago, almost a year and he had seen the agent testing the bow himself in the range without changing anything. Unless…

“Let me guess, you’ve broken the bow and got it fixed by R&D.” Blueprint designs for custom-made weapons for SHIELD agents were also made available in R&D server in the case that the weapon was broken or in need of upgrade and considering the time-sensitive (and life-and-death) matter, all the scientists must be able to fix it immediately, but it seemed he forgot to mention the small details or quirks that made the weapon unique.

“I did,” the confirmation was a mere formality for him at this point, already reaching out to inspect the bow better. Once the bow was in his hand, he had tuned everything out, not bothering to tell Barton to sit or go, leaving the decision in the younger man’s hands.

He turned the bow in his hand experimentally in various directions, getting a feel of its balance and its weight. He made the bow stood on his finger at different points of the bow for further examining its balance. With extreme care, he slid his fingertips on the smooth surface of the bow and the string for imperfections, and then brought the bow underneath the fluorescent lights and magnifying glass.

He took his time, using all of his senses to run a thorough examination on the bow. Barton had brought the bow here directly; he might as well make sure that the bow had no other problems aside from balance. He would not discount the man for having noticed other issues but only mentioned the one that mattered most.

He moved on to the string now, tweaking it from one end to the other and putting it close to his ear to hear its sound. Once it was done, he took the bow and positioned it for drawing. He pulled the string as far as he could and held it in position for 20 seconds, ignoring the strain on his arm and released it, noticing the soundless quality of the string and the quick return of the string into its original position. Then he checked the string again, tweaking it from one end to the other, but this time also checking the joint of the bow and the string.

Done with the physical examination, all that was left for him to check would be… He went to the farthest corner of his lab for physical testing. He made some input on the screen until a sheet of thick steel came forward. He took some gloves from the drawer and wore it on both hands. With a quirk of his lips, he held the bow with two hands like a baseball bat and hit the steel with all his strength. Shaking off the resulting tremors out from his hands, he looked at the dent on the steel and was satisfied to see that the bow was completely intact.

A whistle from his left broke his concentration. He was surprised to see that Barton was still in the lab, seemingly having made himself comfortable as he perched on the rolling chair. (The Hawk, indeed)

“Isn’t that steel?”

“It is,” he answered, not bothering to elaborate. He made a quick input on the screen and the sheet returned to its former position, away from view. He went on his workshop, where all of his machine and tools were, fully aware of the agent shadowing him. He placed the bow, having taken away the string on the table along with the necessary tools. He turned on the milling machine, setting the parameters with a swift press of his fingers and went to work on the bow. In order to achieve the perfect balance for Barton who had unusual center of gravity, the adjustments must be done manually, which would certainly limit the number of scientists who could fix the bow completely, but it was better than nothing.

He was careful in his work, stopping every once in a while to inspect the result with all of his senses. He had once again tuned himself to the bow, adjusting the bow position and angle by touch and visualization, making the screen that came along with the machine rarely used. He wasn’t sure how long he was working on the bow, but once he felt the bow was at the right balance and weight, he stopped. He brought the finished bow to the table and started smoothing the hard edges and polishing the surface until it gleamed darkly. He went to the storage cabinet and took out some boxes with different sizes.

From one of the boxes, he brought out a black rod. He lengthened the black string and cut it down in a certain length. He twisted the ends of the string on a jig he designed for this purpose. Only needing to match the ends of the bow to those of the jig, the string was immediately fastened to the bow.

He inspected the string with the same intensity as he previously did, tweaking the string from one end to another, followed by drawing the string for good twenty seconds and releasing it, and ending with another tweaking on the string. Having returned to his full awareness of his surrounding, he was quick to realize that Barton was still close by. Without missing a beat he gave the bow to the man who was perched on the same rolling chair.

Barton stepped down from the chair with surprising ease and lightness that it barely moved at the disturbance. The agent took the bow, making his own inspection on the newly fixed bow. Meanwhile, he went to wash his hands. He only watched quietly, taking off the goggles and putting his glasses back on as the man drew back the bow to test its strength, his blue-grey eyes intense. Looking at the archer right now, he was tempted to see the man up close in actual mission, instead of through recordings. It must be a sight to see.

“It’s perfect.” He merely nodded at Barton’s comment, he already knew as much.

“I’ll make sure to add notes on the blueprint so they will get the balance right next time. For personal adjustments, the lab on A6 is available.” He added, thinking that Barton would have liked to make his own adjustment. He walked to the table and opened the boxes; Barton mirrored his movements in well-concealed curiosity.

“These are some experimental material for you to test.” He pushed the box that contained the black string and pointed at the string at the bow. “That string is made of new material, much more flexible and much sturdier.” He slid another box that contained small brown bottles. “This is the oil for string maintenance.” Finally, he opened the largest box and tipped it to show it contents.

“New arrows, well, arrowheads actually.” He took one of them and threw it at Barton, “This one is quite a pain to design. Why don’t you take it and shot at the highest beam?”

“What did it do?” Barton asked, his face lost the wary look and instead he looked curious and excited. In return he merely raised an eyebrow and gave a tilt of his head. So the man did as he was told, nocking the arrow and released it to the highest beam. Right before it reached the beam, the arrowhead opened and turned into a claw which tightened over the beam while the rest of them seemed to extend into a black cord that was attached to the bow. Barton made an experimental tug on the cord and both the hook and the cord held.

“Grappling arrow. You have a habit of flying last I heard.” Barton barked into laughter at the comment. It had been merely a passing comment from Coulson when they briefly met in the canteen and he had been looking for something simpler to work on between the projects, so he came up with the grappling arrow. The younger man’s laughter was infectious that his lips twisted in a smile.

“Are you telling me to fly more often?” Barton grinned at him, his tone teasing.

“I’m not the one having to the deal with Agent Coulson or Medical.” He shrugged noncommittally.

“I like you.” Regardless the joking manner, he could detect the honesty in his tone and that took him aback briefly, delaying his response for few seconds. (It had been a long, long while since someone told him that they liked him, for himself)

“You would say that because I’m the one who make your bow.”

“Well, that too.”

“Now, if there’s nothing else, out from the lab.” He made shooing motion towards the doors. His mind already turned towards the prototype he was working on. (Where was he last?)

“No sir. At least, not yet.” At least the man was honest, he thought to himself.

“And please use the doors.” He managed to remind Barton before he completely turned on his heels. He caught the briefest moment when the man seemed to still at the comment, which meant he guessed correctly that he wasn’t using the doors to get inside his lab. Well, that narrowed it down then, good for him. He blinked when he heard the doors swished shut.

And Coulson told him that the man had no manners.

He shook his head and picked up the prototype he previously threw. He hoped that was his last encounter with an operative, he really didn’t need further complications in his life. There was a reason why he chose science/engineering instead of operations, as interesting as it might be.

(Unfortunately, life didn’t agree with him)

**Author's Note:**

> In my headcanon, Howard and Fury shared a strong relationship based on mutual trust and respect, and they also had similar principles they held on to. Not to mention that both of them were two of the most powerful people in the world, which made them separate from the others.
> 
> Fury was probably the least sentimental character among the Avengers, but being human, he would naturally try to keep those that mattered to him close to him and despite having no memories, Howard still had his character intact which led him to let his guard down more than usual around Howard/Eduardo.


End file.
